"One--perhaps two." His voice became gay and bantering again. "My dear
Rhoda," he said, "I'm extremely sorry if I really spoiled your party,
but I don't believe I did--not altogether, anyhow. Underneath, I think
you enjoyed it." He took her small hand in his; he wondered why it was
so cold and listless.
At the door leading into the hall he paused and looked back "Oh," he
said, "there was one thing I forgot to tell you! You see, part of my
story wasn't altogether true. Mrs. Pollen--or rather, Mrs.
Mackintosh--left Mackintosh after five years or so. She's in the
movies--doing very well, I understand. She would; wouldn't she? Of
course, she was no good to begin with. But that didn't spoil the point
of my story, did it? Good-by, Rhoda, my dear." He was gone.
Mrs. Ennis did not move until she heard the street door close; she
waited even a little longer, following the sound of Burnaby's footsteps
as they died away into the night; finally she walked over to the piano,
and, sitting down, raised her hands as if to strike the keys. Instead,
she suddenly put both her arms on the little shelf before the music-rack
and buried her head in them. The curtains tip-tapped on the window-sill;
the room was entirely quiet.